


The Jackpot Question in Advance

by brioscotty



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Faberry, Porn With Plot, happy new year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:12:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3079625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brioscotty/pseuds/brioscotty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who are you doing New Year's Eve?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Jackpot Question in Advance

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ilona and Anna for the encouragement and reassurance that, yes, Faberry porn is something that still needs to happen. Title comes from "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?" by a host of different artists (I recommend Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon Levitt's version). Mistakes are mine.

Putting the finishing touches to her make-up, Santana Lopez scrutinises her reflection one last time before picking up her phone from the dressing table. Her best friend’s voice drifts from the speaker, making half-hearted protests about their plans for the evening.

“Quinn,” Santana interrupts. “We’re going. And that’s all there is to it.”

“I’ll be your third wheel,” Quinn whines. “Is there anything worse on New Year’s Eve?”

“You could lie in bed all night on your own,” Santana points out. “That would be a pretty pathetic way to spend the final night of the year. Everyone is going and last year’s party was amazing.”

“A couple of years ago, you would have been the last person I’d have imagined having an ‘amazing’ time at Rachel Berry’s house on New Year’s Eve,” Quinn scoffs.

“Hey, Raymond and Michael are no slouches when it comes to putting on a shindig,” Santana counters. A knock on her door draws her attention and she turns to find her girlfriend leaning against the doorframe, tapping her watch. Santana holds up a finger and makes an apologetic face.

“Did you seriously just say shindig?” Quinn asks.

“Whatever,” Santana rolls her eyes. “Look, we’re heading over there now so that gives you approximately nine minutes to get ready. Mandy is driving.”

Quinn sighs and Santana knows she’s won.

“Fine, but I’ll make my own way there,” Quinn says resignedly.

“I’ll be calling every half hour until you show,” Santana warns. “You can’t spend your entire vacation hiding out at your mom’s house.”

Quinn starts to grumble but Santana cuts her off.

“Bye Quinn!”

She hangs up and tosses her phone into her bag.

“Done, let’s go!”

Mandy catches her by the waist as she walks out of the room.

“You shouldn’t force people into doing things they don’t want to do,” Mandy chastises her, pulling her in close. “If Quinn doesn’t want to go, then maybe we should just leave her alone to mope.”

They share a quick kiss before heading down the stairs.

“I don’t know what her problem is,” Santana shrugs. “She was totally on-board until I said that it was at Rachel’s house then she started making excuses. She hasn’t even seen Rachel since last year.”

She catches the look Mandy shoots her as they wrap up for leaving the house and laughs, shaking her head.

“Rachel and Quinn?” Santana stutters. “No. Not possible. No way, not even in a million years.”

Mandy raises her eyebrows and grins.

“Shut up,” Santana says, fastening the final button on her coat and pushing Mandy towards the front door.

“I didn’t say a thing,” her girlfriend protests. “Not a single word.”

Santana yells a farewell to her parents and whatever siblings are in the house and the pair hurries to the car amidst a flurry of snow. Once they’re inside, Santana pulls her hood down and glares at her girlfriend.

“Now my brain hurts with the mental image of my two best friends…” she tails off and punches Mandy’s shoulder. “Gross.”

“You’re probably the only person in the world who thinks that,” Mandy chuckles, starting the car and heading across town to the Berry household.

**xxxxx**

Dissatisfied, Quinn tosses her fourth outfit onto the bed and reaches for a different shirt. She scrunches her face up at her reflection and throws the shirt onto the pile. The next thing she grabs is a dress she hasn’t worn since high school.

“Not exactly weather-friendly,” she murmurs to herself but puts it on a separate pile, a ‘maybe’ pile.

Her phone beeps from its position on the desk but she ignores it. Santana has already called once, telling her to drive carefully on her way over. Quinn has no intentions of driving anywhere. Any situation where she will be in the vicinity of Rachel Berry calls for copious amounts of alcohol.

After three more outfits yield fruitless results, she snatches up her phone and calls Santana.

“What are you wearing?” she asks as soon as Santana answers.

“Kinky,” her best friend replies.

“Seriously, a dress, pants or jeans?”

“You might want to consider a top, it’s pretty cold outside,” Santana laughs. “Mandy is wearing jeans and a shirt. I’m wearing a dress, Rachel’s wearing a dress, Kurt’s wearing half a dress…”

“It’s a kilt!” Kurt protests in the background.

“Kurt is wearing a kilt but that’s just Kurt. He appears to be channelling his Scottish roots and he’s referring to tonight as Hogmanay, whatever that is.”

“It’s what my people call New Year’s!” Kurt protests in the background.

“Shut up,” Santana moans. “Hurry up and save me from this madman.”

“Right,” Quinn sighs and snatches up the first shirt she’d tried on. “I’ll be there soon.”

After hanging up, she pulls on the shirt and her favourite jeans. Her boots are half-hidden beneath her bed where she’d kicked them off on Christmas Eve. Checking her reflection one last time, she gives herself a small nod of approval and heads down the stairs where her mom and future-stepfather are getting ready to brave the cold.

“Quinn!” her mom says in surprise. “I was under the impression that you were spending the rest of your time here in your bed.”

“Apparently it’s pathetic to spend New Year’s completely alone,” Quinn shrugs, reaching for her coat. “Where are you going?”

“Harry was invited to a friend’s party,” Judy says, passing her fiancé a pair of gloves. “Someone he knows from temple.”

“Michael Berry?” Harry chips in. “When I told him about your mom and I getting engaged, he said that his kid was at school with you.”

“Rachel,” Quinn nods, adjusting her hat and trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. “Actually, that’s where I’m heading. Santana has been ringing me all day to convince me that it’ll be a good night.”

“The Berry’s do throw a great party,” Harry nods. “Ready?”

Quinn nods although she most definitely isn’t. They take Harry’s car and, even though the journey to Rachel’s house takes twice as long as it should due to the blizzard blowing through Lima, when they pull up outside the house, Quinn finds herself taking an inordinate amount of time to leave the car.

They’re greeted at the door by Michael who takes their coats, compliments Judy’s dress and tells Quinn that it’s a pleasure to officially meet her. He directs them down the hall to a room full of people. Harry is hailed immediately and he and Judy disappear into the crowd leaving Quinn in the corridor.

“Quinn, Rachel and the others are down in the basement,” Michael points to an open door further down the hall. “Unless you want to stay up here with us old folks.”

“Thanks, Mr Berry,” Quinn says, relieved at not having to join the crush of people in the lounge.

“Michael,” he calls as he opens another door to add the coats to the pile in the guest bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, Quinn starts plodding down the stairs into the open-plan basement. She’s only been here once and it’s undergone a re-model since. A few sofas and armchairs have been pushed into the centre of the room and she recognises most of the faces occupying them.

“Quinn?!” a shriek from the other side of the room draws the attention of everyone in the basement. Rachel greets her with a lengthy hug at the bottom of the stairs. “I knew you’d be the reason that Santana has been attached to her phone all night but I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“I didn’t think I would either,” Quinn mumbles, catching a whiff of a familiar shampoo mixed with Rachel’s favourite perfume. Immediately she chastises herself for doing something so ridiculous and scans the room for Santana. Her best friend offers her a wave and a grin before returning to her conversation with the boy sitting next to Kurt.

“Can I get you a drink?” Rachel asks, looking a little put-out by Quinn’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Sure,” Quinn replies, forcing herself to smile when she sees the disappointment on Rachel’s face.

“Any preference?” Rachel asks, leading Quinn to a table set up against the wall.

“Whatever you’re having,” Quinn says, accepting the wine cooler and taking a sip. “It’s uh.” Quinn falters and rubs the back of her neck with her free hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too,” Rachel replies, beaming a smile in Quinn’s direction. “I can’t believe it’s been over a year already.”

“Time flies, right?” Quinn asks. “Thanks for letting me come. I mean, thanks for the invite.”

“Well, you ran back to New Haven before last year’s party,” Rachel chides, leading Quinn over to the couches and drawing everyone’s attention. “I think you know everyone apart from Evan and Drew. Guys, this is Quinn, another McKinley High survivor and former alto in the glee club.” She turns back to Quinn. “Evan is one of my classmates at NYADA and Drew is Kurt’s boyfriend. He’s studying Law at Columbia.”

After Quinn’s done the rounds of the group, hugging people she hasn’t seen since leaving Lima a few weeks after graduation, she sits down on the only available armchair. She’s barely exchanged two emails with some of her former glee club family but they all greet her warmly and there’s surprisingly little awkwardness.

“Quinn,” Evan says, drawling out the name as though she knows it from somewhere. Quinn catches the warning glance Rachel sends her but doesn’t say anything. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Quinn nods, sensing that Evan thinks it’s  _anything_ but nice to meet her. When Rachel sits on the arm of Quinn’s chair, a frown crosses Evan’s face, just long enough for Quinn to register it. She feels a wave of smug satisfaction flow through her as she sits back in the chair.

Kurt is the first to break the somewhat-awkward silence by suggesting a game and Quinn is relieved that the focus is taken away from her. Santana catches her eye and grins before raising her glass. Quinn follows suit, taking a long gulp from her bottle.

“I am  _not_ drunk enough for Truth or Dare,” Mandy is insisting above the mess of voices.

“We should wait for Puckerman if we’re playing I Never,” Santana says.

“Puck’s coming?” Quinn asks, causing Rachel to look down at her, a concerned expression on her face.

“He said he might,” Rachel replies. “I can tell him not to, if you don’t want him here.”

“It isn’t a problem,” Quinn shakes her head. “The last time we were all here, I laid into him about ruining my body and how he was a complete asshole… things were pretty awkward between us after that.”

“I don’t really remember,” Rachel says airily, glancing down at her hands.

“You were wasted,” Quinn laughs, draining the last of her bottle and placing it on the floor. “I have this weird memory of you yelling ‘it tastes like pink!’. What does pink even taste like?”

“Like… pink,” Rachel says lamely, blushing slightly before nudging Quinn’s shoulder. “The only other time I’ve been that drunk was when I came to visit you last November.”

Quinn peers up at her, surprised that they’re going to talk about it now.

“One could conclude that you are a bad influence on my sobriety,” Rachel says, holding up her empty bottle. “Want another?”

Rachel’s already on her feet before Quinn can answer, leaving the other girl to trail behind her. They survey the drinks table and Quinn voices what they’re both thinking.

“Do you have anything stronger?”

**xxxxx**

Somewhere between the short-lived game of I Never and Kurt getting his way for a game of Truth or Dare, Rachel’s hand has taken up residence on Quinn’s back. At first, Quinn doesn’t realise, too caught up in the exploits of Evan (which could easily rival Santana) and Sam’s ability to come up with the filthiest questions and dares.

Then Rachel’s fingertips start trailing short paths along the top of Quinn’s spine. Her glances at the brunette have gone unreturned leaving Quinn unfocused on anything except the sensation of Rachel’s touches. Until Kurt catches her eye.

“Quinn, you’ve been pretty quiet so far,” Kurt says, a glint in his eye as the rest of the group turn their attention to Quinn who responds by holding up a cushion to hide behind. "Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” she groans, lowering the cushion and picking up her glass. “Be kind.”

“Never,” he chuckles. “When the ball drops, who do you want to be kissing?”

“Um,” Quinn lowers her gaze to her glass. “Brad Pitt?” She cringes.

“I call bullshit,” Evan says immediately, a smirk crossing her face. “You have to pick someone in the room.”

Annoyed by the smug look on Evan’s face, Quinn takes her time, raising her glass to her lips to knock back the rest of her drink. There’s a knowing smile on Mandy’s face that Quinn doesn’t know how to interpret.

“Well, I’d pick Drew but he’s taken so…” Quinn trails off. Drew is blushing but leans forward.

“If Kurt gets seriously injured in the next forty-six minutes, you’ve got a deal,” he says with a wink after checking his watch. Pretending to be flabbergasted, Kurt punches Drew’s shoulder. “Kidding, honey.” They share a quick kiss causing Santana to wolf-whistle.

“Your turn, Quinn,” Rachel says, getting up from her perch on the arm of the chair after squeezing Quinn’s shoulder tightly.

“Kurt, truth or dare,” Quinn says, watching Rachel pick up empty glasses and bottles to take them over to the table.

“Dare,” he answers. “I think everyone’ll know everything about me by the end of this game if I keep picking truth.

“Give Mandy a lap dance,” Quinn says without hesitation. She grins wildly when Kurt’s jaw drops and reaches down to pick up her empty glass.

“Not fair,” he sulks, arms folded across his chest. Mandy produces a couple of bills from her pocket and waves them in Kurt’s direction.

“Very fair,” Quinn counters. “Santana, film it. I’m going to help the hostess with some more snacks.”

She pushes herself out of the armchair, alarmed by how quickly the alcohol has affected her balance. “You’re not allowed to mix any more of my drinks,” she tells Rachel when she reaches the table. “Anyone would think you’re trying to get me drunk.”

“Would I dare?” Rachel asks, batting her eyelashes innocently. “Come on, Santana has pretty much demolished the supply of Pringles and,” Rachel glances over her shoulder before lowering her voice. “Maybe we could get some air?”

Quinn nods readily and follows Rachel up the stairs, grasping the banister as a precaution.

“Are you staying in Lima for much longer?” Rachel asks as they head towards the kitchen. “It’d be nice to see you… y’know, alone.”

“We’re alone now,” Quinn says, leaning against the fridge while Rachel rummages in the cupboards. She produces a few more cans of Pringles and a couple of bags of chips and sets them down on the counter.

“I meant coffee or dinner,” Rachel says, turning to face Quinn. “It’d be nice to hear about what’s been happening with you since we haven’t seen each other. Or talked much at all.”

“I thought it would be less awkward,” Quinn says lamely, scuffing her toe against the kitchen floor a couple of times before looking back up. “It probably would have been easier than this is though.”

“Probably,” Rachel agrees. “You have nothing to feel weird about. I was the ridiculously drunk one, I was the one who made a move on you even though you were seeing someone… you were the one who turned me down.” Rachel looks lost in thought for a few seconds before reaching for Quinn’s hand. “How about that air?”

“Air is good,” Quinn nods her head, allowing herself to be led outside onto the back porch. “What’s the deal with Evan?” Despite the heaters that have been set up around the porch, it’s still freezing.

“We’re friends,” Rachel states, glancing down at Quinn’s hand in her own. “Her parents are absent the majority of the time so I told her to come and spend the holidays here instead.”

“She likes you.”

Quinn attempts not to sound jealous but cringes when she hears it in her voice.

“She’s a little possessive,” Rachel admits, squeezing Quinn’s hand. “But I’m not interested in her. Not like that. What about you? I don’t buy your, as she termed it, ‘bullshit’ answer about wanting to kiss Brad Pitt at midnight. Or Drew for that matter.”

“Out of everyone in that room, I think you know who I’d rather be kissing,” Quinn answers truthfully, exhaling and watching her breath spiral upwards. “And that confession comes courtesy of those drinks you’ve been mixing me.”

“You’re so full of crap,” Rachel laughs. “That confession would have come out regardless of what you were drinking. I have ways of making you talk.”

“Oh?” Quinn asks, turning away from the darkened yard to look at Rachel, who’s standing a lot closer than Quinn had anticipated. “I’d like to see…”

The words die in her mouth as Rachel’s lips push against hers; her brain starts a long overdue victory dance before guiding her hands around Rachel’s waist and pulling the shorter girl closer. Rachel’s eyes are dancing when they break apart and the grin on her lips causes Quinn’s stomach to flutter.

“That is definitely one way to get me to shut up actually,” Quinn murmurs before brushing her lips against Rachel’s again.

“I wonder if there are other ways to get you to talk then,” Rachel muses before Quinn finds herself tugged back inside. They bypass the kitchen and the door that would lead them back down to the basement.

“Where are we going?” Quinn asks, though the answer is pretty obvious as they climb the stairs. The second room on the left appears to belong to Rachel judging by the large amount of gold stars on the door. “Gold star,” Quinn giggles as they head inside.

“Hmm?” Rachel asks, closing the door and twisting the lock.

“I used to find it funny that gold stars were your thing when all through high school, you were the straightest person I’d ever met. I’d never seen anyone moon over boys the way you did,” Quinn bounces onto Rachel’s bed, slides off her boots and rolls onto her side, watching Rachel set the chair from her dressing table under the door handle.

“The lock sometimes doesn’t work,” Rachel says in answer to Quinn’s questioning look. “And I could have said the same about you, mooning over boys: Finn, Puck, Sam, Joe…” Rachel counts off the names on her fingers. Quinn makes a face at every single one.

“Killing the mood here, Rach,” she says, beckoning the other girl to the bed and frowning when Rachel shakes her head. “I’m seriously not above begging. Would you believe I’ve been waiting a lot longer than a year for this?”

“I wish you’d said something before,” Rachel says, moving her hand to her side to drag down the zip of her dress. “And that you’d been single when I visited last year. And that I hadn’t been so drunk.”

Quinn is trying really hard to listen to Rachel, trying to absorb the words she’s saying but her hand has stopped moving and she’s letting the dress drop to the floor. Her mouth runs dry as she watches Rachel take a couple of small steps towards the bed.

“Santana said something about you developing a thing for lingerie,” Quinn murmurs, struggling to drag her eyes upwards to meet Rachel’s gaze. “You two went shopping and I think she was aghast because you spent most of your money on…” Quinn gestures helplessly. “That. Those. Wow, English is deserting me pretty quickly.”

A grin crosses Rachel’s lips and she glances down.

“I might be on first name terms with most of the clerks at the stores I frequent,” Rachel nods sagely. “Do you think I have a problem?” She punctuates her question by turning slowly on the spot until she finds Quinn’s gaze again. When Quinn shakes her head, Rachel smiles and kneels on the edge of the bed.

“No problem whatsoever,” Quinn says hoarsely, backing up against the pillows as Rachel advances on her. “The only problem I can think of right now is that our parents are downstairs and our friends are in the basement and…”

Rachel rolls her eyes as she straddles Quinn’s thighs.

“You’re thinking about our friends and our parents right now?” she asks, slowly unbuttoning Quinn’s shirt. “Really?” Rachel shimmies her hips as she gets a little more comfortable, enjoying the gormless look on the other girl’s face.

“Um,” Quinn hums. “No. They might hear… or come looking for us.”

“Then we’ll have to be extra quiet,” Rachel grins, leaning forwards to push her lips against Quinn’s before the blonde raises any more protests.

“But…” Quinn tries to interrupt but Rachel shakes her head. “Sorry.”

“Shh,” Rachel murmurs, undoing the final button and placing a hand on Quinn’s abdomen, desperately trying to ignore Quinn’s lack of clothing beneath her shirt. “If you can tell me you don’t want this, that I’ve been misreading every signal between us tonight, I will get off this bed, get dressed and go give Santana her Pringles.” At Quinn’s silence, Rachel presses a kiss to her jaw. “Quinn?” Another kiss, this time at the corner of Quinn’s mouth. “Say something.”

“You’re definitely the one I want to be kissing at midnight,” Quinn says, her lips ghosting over Rachel’s as the brunette blushes.

“Drew will be devastated,” she murmurs before catching Quinn in another kiss, an intense kiss that causes Rachel to completely lose focus. She’s barely aware that Quinn’s hands have taken hold of her waist or that she’s gently being pushed backwards. It isn’t until her back meets the comforter on her bed that she opens her eyes in surprise. Quinn is staring at her, lips parted as she tries to catch her breath. Exhaling slowly, Rachel links her hands behind Quinn’s neck.

“No more talking about Drew,” Quinn whispers, letting her hips grind against Rachel’s.

“Who?” Rachel moans, quickly moving her hands down Quinn’s back as the other girl’s hips experimentally grind down once more. Quinn grins and quirks an eyebrow as Rachel’s hands slip a little lower. “What?” Rachel asks.

Shaking her head, Quinn shifts her weight, slipping a thigh between Rachel’s legs.

“Tell me,” Rachel pouts, eyes flickering shut as Quinn dips her head to kiss her neck. “Quinn.”

“Rachel Berry’s hands are on my ass,” Quinn giggles, kissing her way up to Rachel’s lips. “Sorry, it’s just an unexpected way to be finishing up the year.”

“Maybe I should put them elsewhere,” Rachel suggests, arching an eyebrow as she lifts her hands away from Quinn’s body and folds her hands behind her head. “How’s that?” Quinn rolls her eyes and exhales.

“Fine,” she smiles, pecking Rachel’s lips. An unresponsive Rachel keeps her gaze on the ceiling causing Quinn to shimmy down Rachel’s body, placing kisses as she goes. It isn’t until her lips touch the skin just above the waistband of Rachel’s panties that Quinn spots a hint of movement, a quick flex of stomach muscles. “Rach?”

“Mm?”

“I want to take these off,” Quinn murmurs, pressing her lips against the lacy, black fabric. A soft moan is all the encouragement she needs and the panties are gone, silently dropping onto the rug next to the bed.

“I don’t think it’s fair that you’re practically still dressed by the way,” Rachel pipes up, a tremor in her voice as Quinn’s lips continue their path to the inside of her thighs.

“Probably not,” Quinn replies vaguely, fixated on the sight before her: she’s kneeling between the legs of a virtually naked Rachel Berry… a very turned-on, virtually naked Rachel Berry.

“Quinn?” Rachel asks, breaking Quinn out of her reverie. “Strip.”

The authoritative tone in Rachel’s voice leaves no room for argument or question. Quinn’s shirt, already open, is shrugged off in an instant. Her jeans follow, belt buckle clanking awkwardly on the floor causing them both to grimace.

“Is this better?” Quinn asks, lying down once again and grinning when Rachel’s hands run deftly down her back to cup her ass.

“Much,” Rachel nods, mouth falling open in a moan when Quinn’s thigh pushes between her legs again. The shorter girl’s hips rocket upwards and they start to grind in unison, Quinn attempting to establish a much slower pace than Rachel is intent on setting. Rachel decides to take the matter in her into her own hands. “Truth or dare.”

“What?” Quinn lifts her head gaze to meet Rachel’s and quirks an eyebrow.

“Truth or dare,” Rachel repeats, arching her neck and moaning when Quinn’s hand cups her breast, thumbing her nipple through the only piece of clothing she’s still wearing.

“Truth,” Quinn whispers, lowering her mouth to Rachel’s neck to press soft kisses against her skin.

“Always playing it safe,” Rachel humphs, removing her hands from Quinn’s body to reach behind her own back and snap off the bra preventing Quinn from touching her fully.

“Fine,” Quinn says between kisses. “Just for you and just because I doubt there’s anything I  _won’t_ do right now… dare.”

Rachel guides Quinn’s palm back to her breast and sighs contentedly as the other girl starts to kiss her way down from Rachel’s neck until lips wrap around her nipple.

“I dare you to make me come by midnight,” Rachel says simply, so simply that Quinn barely even registers the command. Her focus on the hardening nub between her lips is pretty much all-encompassing until Rachel’s words register and her head shoots upright.

“What?” she says blankly.

“You heard,” Rachel says, a faint blush tainting her cheeks. Quinn glances over her shoulder at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “And you have nine minutes.”

“Rach…” Quinn exhales slowly.

“Eight and a half minutes,” Rachel says serenely, running a hand up into Quinn’s hair. “I wouldn’t waste any more time.” Quinn nods her agreement, catching Rachel in a brief kiss before sliding down the bed to nestle between Rachel’s thighs. “What are…”

“You really shouldn’t confide anything remotely intimate to Santana,” Quinn grins wickedly as she presses her lips to the inside of Rachel’s thigh, sucking hard, causing the other girl to buck wildly.

“I’m going to kill her,” Rachel gasps, hands flying to cradle Quinn’s head. “What else has she told you?”

Quinn winks and returns to pressing kisses all over Rachel’s sensitive skin before parting her legs a little wider and running her tongue over Rachel’s clit. The resulting moan causes Quinn to pull away.

“You’re going to have to be quieter than that if you don’t want them to hear,” she says, tongue darting out to wet her lips before she lowers her head again, causing Rachel’s retort to die in her throat. The noise downstairs has grown exponentially in the last few minutes, probably due to the imminent countdown, but Quinn would rather not be interrupted during the next seven or so minutes.

Quinn doesn’t relent until her need for oxygen outweighs her desire to taste Rachel, to feel her trembling under her tongue. She raises her head enough to gasp for air, immediately replacing her tongue with her fingers. She feels Rachel tugging her upwards and complies, keeping two fingers pressed to the other girl’s clit as her lips find Rachel’s mouth.

“Five minutes,” Rachel murmurs, breathing unevenly. She tangles her fingers with Quinn’s and moves both of their hands roughly against her clit.

“What are you doing?” Quinn whispers, grinding her hips down against Rachel’s thigh, desperate for some relief of her own.

“I really don’t want you to forfeit on this dare,” Rachel gasps, head tipping back as she arches off the bed, her free hand curling in the bedspread, knuckles turning white.

“I don’t plan on,” Quinn replies, stilling both of their hands and fixing Rachel with a look as she circles her hand around Rachel’s wrist. “And you don’t need to help.” Rachel allows her hand to be moved away, smiling when Quinn presses a quick kiss to the tips of her fingers. “How long now?”

“Three,” Rachel casts a quick glance at her clock. “Everyone from the basement will be upstairs for the countdown.” There’s a swell of noise from downstairs, confirming what Rachel’s just said.

“So I shouldn’t worry about doing something like this,” Quinn thrusts deep inside Rachel, causing her to cry out, cursing as Quinn’s fingers drive into her over and over again.

An intense knot forms low in Rachel’s stomach as she tries to keep pace with Quinn’s hand, pumping hard between her legs. She clutches at Quinn’s back, vaguely aware of hiss of pain as she sinks her nails into soft flesh. They kiss again and it sets off a reaction in Rachel, shooting through her nervous system; she cants upwards from the bed.

“Quinn,” she moans, breaking out of the kiss. “I’m so close.”

“I know,” Quinn murmurs, her momentum slowing but her confidence still bolstered by the alcohol in her system. “I can feel it, you’re so wet. You’re going to come so hard for me, Rach. You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this to you, how much I’ve thought about it.”

Rachel’s eyes roll backwards, a whispered ‘yes’ falling from her lips.

The voices below them are now chanting in unison.

“Ten seconds, Rachel,” Quinn twists her hand, bringing her thumb hard against the other girl’s clit. “Come for me.”

“Quinn,” Rachel groans as her body tenses erratically. “Fuck, Quinn…” Bucking her hips upwards one last time, she finds the release she needs and comes hard, her body trembling as she keeps riding Quinn’s fingers, her breath issuing in jagged breaths as she claws at Quinn’s back.

Below them, the house erupts into shouts of ‘Happy New Year!’ and strains of Auld Lang Syne filter through the noise.

“Kurt,” Rachel mutters, rolling her eyes before pushing her lips against Quinn’s.

“They’re probably looking for us,” Quinn says, breaking the kiss regretfully.

“Probably,” Rachel agrees, trying desperately to calm her breathing but failing miserably when Quinn’s hand twitches between her legs again.

“Santana was right,” Quinn muses, moving her hand away when she feels Rachel’s hips inch upwards before the brunette fixes her with a questioning look. “Your dads do throw one hell of a party.”

“I’d like to think that your enjoyment has more to do with my skills as a hostess than anything else,” Rachel retorts, bringing a hand to Quinn’s stomach and trailing it upwards.

“Maybe,” Quinn sighs as Rachel’s hand cups her breast and starts flicking the pad of her thumb across her nipple. “Do you host a lot of parties? Or do I have to wait another twelve months before I’m privy to your hostessing skills again?”

“I’m pretty sure that isn’t a word,” Rachel grins. “You’ll be delighted to know that I’m organising a private party in the very near future. Guest list only. Very selective.” Rachel bites down on her lip at the expression on Quinn’s face.

“Is that so?” the blonde asks, eyes darkening when Rachel slides her other hand to the apex of Quinn’s legs. “Hey, Rach?”

“Hmm?” Rachel pauses in her ministrations.

“Happy New Year.”

Rachel grins, ceasing whatever plan she has in store for Quinn to wrap both arms around the other girl’s waist and pull their bodies together.

“Happy New Year, Quinn.”

**Author's Note:**

> And Happy New Year to you :D


End file.
